All Men Must Serve
by RevolutionSpy
Summary: Europe is at war with each other. Westeros had declared 5 kings for the Seven Kingdoms. Tom is forced to choose to fight for his old family in Westeros or his new one at Downton. After all, during war can family, loyalty and ultimately love stay true?


Tom Branson awoke to Downton's morning light streaming through his curtains. The Westerosi pulled himself out of the warmth of his covers and cursed the cold stone floor against his flesh. He walked to the small mirror hung on the wall and readied himself for the day's work ahead. Finally, he dressed in the dark green chauffeur's uniform.

A small clock told him that he was not to be summoned for a good amount of time for breakfast. Plenty of time to reminisce about the life he had left behind, a year ago.

Crouching next to a loose slab in the small sitting; come, kitchen, come, dining room. Tom lifted the stone and pulled out a wooden box. The stone fell with a dull thud; Tom opened the box on the old table, it's contents over spilling, and shuffled through the artefacts. He fingered a small carving of his house's sigil, a sword amongst a field of wheat, accompanied by the word he had known so well, _Valar Dohaeris_ , all men must serve.

All men must serve. That was what had found Tom here in the small chauffeur's cottage connected to the garage to be at the beck and call of English nobles. All under his father's orders:

"Tom, you're seven and twenty now. It is time for you to fulfill our house words and do the duty of our ancestors. I have made arrangements for you to work in Lord Grantham's service." Lord Branson spoke gently to his third born, second son, while his other children sat on benches either side of the great hall, listening intently. He was in his 40th year at least, with grey dimming his brown hair. Despite this he held the body of a warrior entwined with the kindness of a father, showing resolutely in his blue-green eyes.

Tom bit back tears as his sister and brother reacted in their own way. Rodrik, sat closest to his father being the eldest, gave a sympathetic glance. While his elder sister, Cala, and his twin, Talia, sat together hugging each other through silent unshed tears. Mya and Lillia, his two younger sisters, held the youngest of the family, Kira, back from running to him.

"Valar Dohaeris and I will do it with strength and courage." was all that Tom's tight throat managed to say echoing both house words. Maester Harlam began to proceed with the next issue of the day as Tom was dismissed to pack.

Tom wiped away a stray tear at the memories. It may had only been a year ago but the dullness in his heart had remained even with consistent weekly letters from his siblings. They all had their own lives now: which he was no longer apart of.

Upon his arrival, Mr Carson had handed him a letter from the Lord himself. It was made clear the ways of Westeros were not welcome at Downton nor was he anything more or less than a

servant, despite his own inheritance. Only the family upstairs, Mr. Carson and, Mrs Hughes truly knew where and why he had come to the abbey. Still he was allowed to practice the Faith Of The Old Gods with the addition of a small weirwood carving to his room in the cottage and still keep in contact with his house by the raven kept in his cottage also.

The raven flew high in the morning air and landed by Branson's window making itself known by his high shrills. Untying the letter from its leg and letting it return to his cage, Tom tore the seal marked with his elder brother's sigil. Re-reading and re-reading the letters unable to form them into words and sentences.

 _Tom,_

 _Little brother. I wish these were words I had not the duty to write. On the morrow, Father will be executed in King's Landing for false claims of treason against the false King, Joffrey. Our house cannot let this injustice go unpunished nor can House Stark whom face the loss of Lord Eddard._

 _Lord Robb has called his banners and I have answered, I pray to the old gods and new that you will join me in vengeance and war to come._

 _Rodrik._

The world had crashed and burned around him, his father was one of Ned Stark's closest friends and advisor whom had joined him to the capital, King's Landing. Instantly pure rage and sadness filled his heart with worry creeping in for his family especially his younger siblings whom one he had not yet even met.

He was pulled out of his initial grief by a soft knock followed by a harder one on the door, lightly jogging to the door, Branson opened the oak barrier to the outside world and let his two guests push into his dwellings.

"What are you going to do, Tom?"

Tom shook his head silently, tears now freely spilling into the handkerchief thrusted into his hands. In truth; all of his heart, soul and, body knew. Both sides of his life were going to war. If he fought on the fields of France with guns and bayonets to save the lives of men and the way of men, he had never considered meeting or to fight on the fields of the Riverlands with sword and shield for all men he had known and the way he had known.

"Valar Dohaeris." Tom spoke slowly, the high valyrian words rolling effortlessly of his tongue, gripping the wooden sigil hard enough for pools of blood to stain the wood in his hand. His guest looked at him unknowing of the translation.

He would fight not with lead bullets but steel blades.


End file.
